Why Knot?
by Misa Kagekatsu
Summary: The smell of vanilla. Shoelaces and glittering sapphires. How can you hold onto reality, when even your love has flown away? [First Fanfic- Oneshot] Slight AU/OOC.


**Misa here with my first official fanfiction story. I had written this a while ago for an English Class assignment, an****d then changed it to fit Danny Phantom :)  
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**Let me know what you think!  
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**Disclaimer: I don't own Sam or anything else you see here. Not even the prompt "shoelace".  
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Why? The only thing left. Not who, or when or how, but why. She retreated to the pale grey corner of her little suite, chuckling darkly at the irony of it all. The young woman didn't embrace Goth; it embraced her. She closed her bloodshot eyes, not noticing the way the sun crept through the cracks in her lost mind or the way her red fingers caressed the crumbling wall, gathering layers of dirt and grime.

The only thing that stayed was a faded white string, cutting off blood flow at her index finger. Yet she didn't care. She had lost all her senses months ago. All, except for that infernal string. Maybe it provided an answer to her why.

It had probably started when the sun had set over the Amity Park lights, providing a cheerful backdrop against the overcast of the storm clouds low on the horizon. She ran up the hill, blowing raven strands out of her face, only wanting to reach the boy with eyes of ocean. He gave her a warm smile as she plopped down next to him and inhaled a musky vanilla scent to remind herself that he was actually there, and not dying on a battlefield like she feared.

He had always had a hero complex, protecting her even after that fatal accident years ago. She thought she had lost him, nearly crying out of relief when he appeared out of the portal almost the same. Almost, meaning he had gained a completely new personality marked by glittering green eyes. He wasn't the same, not anymore, yet she clung to the reality that he was fine—the same boy who had protected her year after year, even with his awful puns.

Chortling at an obscure joke, the young woman reminisced with her childhood best friend, but the twin sapphires on their left hands kept distracting her. He had finally worked up enough gall to ask her, igniting feelings of contentment and pleasure in them both. Of course, everyone else erupted in "I told you so's", but she was just happy by the strengthened bond between them.

They exchanged witty banter when he knelt down and began untying his shoe. She looked up in confusion, but he only shook his head as he tied something around her waist. Her eyes widened in panic until he leaned close and whispered urgently into her ear, leaning back to convey unspoken messages between deep-set irises: amethyst and cobalt. Not wanting to bury the sapphire so soon, she shook her head repeatedly and pleaded with him to take the string back and stay with her, until a sharp scream suddenly penetrated the air. He frowned, and then turned to leave right after he pressed his cool lips to her forehead in one last gesture. Her lips formed a last plea as her eyes vowed to remain vigilant, with the only warmth emanating from her waist when she finally left.

Three months passed. She had relocated the string to her neck, pale against her ashen skin reflected in the glass window. She cursed herself for not remembering to bring her black-and-white umbrella as her chestnut hair sought to seek warmth from her face. She had been rather forgetful lately, but dismissed it as stress. The televisions in the window next to her blared Disney songs, evoking memories of happiness in the fall leaves with him. Before she decided to forego the annoying rain, she gave a smile to the sky, chilled enough to melt it into cacophonous colors.

People backed away as she enveloped herself into the vanilla smell of the coffee shop. It mingled with the overpowering scent of cinnamon as she stepped up to dictate her order to the fellow Goth boy at the counter. He had always liked to come here; they had so many memories. A burst of laughter caught her attention, revealing the joyous antics of two children braiding each other's hair as their mother fastened their shoelaces. A slight smile tugged at her lips as she heard whispered promises and secrets.

She reached out a hand; almost as if to join them, but then the bell signaled that her drink was ready. Passing the empty set of chairs, she took no notice of the liquid burning her hand as she walked onto the sidewalk, laughter echoing underneath the bloody, purple sky.

Every so often in the last few months she started to follow the papery butterflies to her home, reveling in the ghostly touches they gave as they fluttered by. Ghosts were only all true a reality ever since he had left. Scattered flowers littered her front path, covering bright prescriptions and broken containers. Craziness couldn't grasp her yet, despite the blobs dancing in her vision. Sudden warmth constricted her, almost as tight as the string wrapped around her ankle. She turned over, not noticing the cool touch of a hand upon her forehead. All she noticed were the overgrown reeds leading to a deteriorated shack.

Inside was a white bird crying mournfully in a steel cage. Or was it a rabbit? The world grew fuzzy until she blinked. Most definitely a bird; she never liked rabbits in the first place: they were too fluffy for her taste. Glancing around, she grabbed a sharp knife and methodically began sawing at the cage, barely feeling the blood slipping out from the between the cuts made by the shrapnel. The bird released a shrill shriek once it was freed, soaring out after pecking at her grayed anklet and fiery hair.

She giggled and turned to follow it. The bird disappeared just as shown as she escaped the maze of shrapnel; she merely shrugged and floated on. Eventually coming to a dark hole, she didn't hesitate to climb in, intent on following the wisps despite her scarlet, freezing hands. She turned back only once, barely catching a glimpse of steel green eyes. _Soon, my dear…_came a slow whisper through the howling tunnel.

Sometime later, she managed to break free of the tunnel, but not before a wracking cough grasped her thin frame. Neon green eyes cut through the frozen trees and bored through the masses of spirits rushing back and forth. Her boots made light treads as she walked to the railing of the bridge, stooping only to pick up a glazed crimson leaf. Everything green had stopped growing, despite her special connection with plants. Although silence reigned supreme except for the snowfall, music blared around her ears. If only it was to cover the pain from the string twisted around her wrist. Another reason she never wore sneakers anymore.

Her breath rose in a puffy cloud, smelling faintly of cinnamon. It was too cold for the other butterflies to come out and play, leaving her all alone in the midst of aliens. They whispered to one another; no one needed her, no one wanted her. Another cough seized her, sending the leaf plunging to the slushy river below.

If only she could retreat to her shack and laugh at the croaking of the tree holding her. Anything was better than the cold, yet she had grown to embrace it. The sun offered minimum light as she suddenly heard footsteps behind her. Not a footprint anywhere, but a small flower, there despite all odds. A chuckle came to her lips and she reached for the flower, covering an invisible hand melting into the buried blue sidewalk.

A scream erupted out of the wall. She was safe from the coldness of the eyes; she was sure. Only then did she realize the pitiful noise was her, slowly transforming into a sadistic laugh. Grime and filth covered her, with a dead butterfly to keep her company in her pale suite. Her laugh stopped, as she became remorse at catching a scent of warm vanilla. She dared to hope, but crushed it into her cocooned heart. Hope had flown away a long time ago, as had reality. Maroon fingers reached out, and were met with a warm smile and ocean eyes.

"Told you I'd come back for you," he whispered, staring into the pieces of her soul.

She stood up, her eyes flashing a dangerous crimson. "Have you really?" she said in a voice as rusted as her eyes.

"Yes," he nodded vigorously, "I told you I was here. The whole time. I loved you too much."

"No, no you didn't. You lied, and broke your promise. Broke my only tie to this cruel world. I don't believe in love anymore," She eyed him warily, "Love does not exist. It never has, and never will. I don't know you. Don't haunt me, you _phantom_."

She refused to look up after her last statement, succumbing to the cacophony pounding in her ear. She felt one more cool kiss on her head, trying not to let him see the single tear rolling down her frozen cheek. The scent of vanilla entangled her, penetrating her mind forever. The shoelace turned her finger blue; she had forgotten all about it.

She coughed and faced the feeble rays of the sun, before ripping off the shoelace that tied her blood for years. She dropped it on the pale grey headstone right next to an indigo jewel, crushing memories and pills underneath soft boot thuds. Perhaps her why had been answered after all.


End file.
